It Matters
by Psycho Sombrero
Summary: It is proof that what you do is real. It is physical proof that I am affected by you and your actions. But, most of all, it is proof that I am human." Monsters don't fall apart when the villagers get scared. Rated for self-injury, drug-use, future lemons.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: "It is proof that what you do is real. It is physical proof that I am affected by you and your actions. But, most of all, it is proof that I am human."

I'm really am too sick for school this time. I wrote this a few days ago, and I was dog tired when I finished it, so excuse the ending if it's bad. Has anyone else been watching the election? I'm getting kind of antsy about how it's going to turn out. (I guess a lot of you are in the UK, though, so maybe I'm the only one xP)

Please enjoy the angstiness!

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_Stupid cat. _

_Monster._

_**Murderer.**_

These words burned. I heard them over and over, and yet, each and every time, they burned. Branding me, searing my sanity. It seemed like it would have stopped, but the hurt never stopped. Bad things happen to everyone. Bad things happen and most people put those things behind them. I wanted to do that. I wanted to move on from the things that I'd done, things that I couldn't help anymore; it made sense that I should have moved on by then. But every time I heard these words, they brought all of it back up again.

At some point, I submitted to all of it. I decided that I must deserve this misery, this hell, these memories that no one would let me forget. I decided that I deserved this constant guilt. It came to the point where _I_ would not—no, _could _not—let myself forget.

Even when I began mutilating myself, ignoring meals, treating myself as everyone else had, as if I had been trying to make some sort of penance, or call things even with them, even when I had been scarred so badly from wounds that would never heal, they didn't stop. There was Yuki. There was always going to be Yuki there to remind me what I was, to put me in my place, to make sure I didn't forget.

And then there was Akito. Akito would always _be there,_ but his presence was not as obvious in my life as Yuki's. But, when I saw Akito, it was always worse. Yuki reminded me of my curse, vaguely of the fact that I was lesser than the rest of the zodiac. But Akito? Seeing Akito was hell. He would remind me very forwardly that I was a monster, that I was the lowest being there was, that I was a being put here to be hated and scorned upon, and worst of all, that I was a murderer—that I had (basically) killed my own mother.

Akito went out of his way to hurt me, but Yuki did it like it was nothing. Like yelling those things at me as he beat the living shit out of me wasn't something that should bother me. Like when it hit me so hard, I was being even weaker than I already felt I was.

That was why it was worse with Yuki. He could hurt me without even trying, mentally or physically. The consequences of his actions didn't matter to him. I didn't matter to him. I didn't matter, point blank. That was why I started cutting.

Maybe that was why I didn't care about fighting with him anymore. It was a Tuesday, cloudy and cold outside, and we were home alone; Shigure at the estate, probably bothering Hatori; Tohru, at work. I hadn't tried to start anything with him in days. He got home before me, I had been taking my time walking recently. It just really didn't matter at all to me where I was or when I got there; I even skipped school sometimes. I hadn't even known he was home.

I went to the fridge, out of habit I guess, I mean, I _was _hungry, and looked through it for something to eat or drink. But I ended up remembering that I didn't think I deserved food, and it didn't matter if I ate or drank anymore.

I closed the door to the refrigerator and turned around to see Yuki standing there. I was surprised, I guess, he never really went out of his way to talk to me or anything. It was apparent soon after my thinking that, that he wasn't here to talk to me.

He punched me square in the jaw, sending me flying back to the kitchen cabinets behind me. It hurt. It hurt really badly. But pain hadn't bothered me as much as it used to; it had become something of a comfort to me. I didn't want to fight with him, talk to him, look at him…I didn't want anything to do with him. I didn't take the time to get mad and ashamed at the fact that he was about to beat the shit out of me, I just wanted it to be over with, so I wouldn't have to feel his presence weighing down on mine anymore.

I got up and tried to walk around him, ignoring the throbbing pain on the side of my face. He pushed me back at this, not hard, but in a way that I suppose was supposed to provoke me, stir up the hothead he thought he had figured out so well.

When he realized I was just trying to go about my business, he asked with anger that he was obviously trying to restrain "What's _wrong_ with you?!"

"A lot of things," I responded, frankly. I was a bit surprised, he'd always acted as if my wanting to fight with him was something of a nuisance.

"Why won't you _fight _anymore?"

"Not in the mood today, sorry," I answered nonchalantly. I attempted yet again to walk past him, taking a step forward to his right. He firmly grabbed my left wrist, merely with intentions of keeping me away from my next destination, I'm sure, but his finger was pressing down in such a way over a cut on it that it sent shots of pain through my arm. I didn't want him to know why my wrist hurt so badly, but I couldn't help muttering _"Fuck!"_ under my breath. I didn't want people to find out, I had taken precautions, like wearing long sleeves, but he had grabbed bare bandage. Despite the efforts, he caught on that it was hurting very badly, and seemed a bit confused. He lightened his grip, but only to move his fingers over the lacerations and rough texture of my poorly bandaged cuts.

"What happened to your arm?" he asked curiously. I hated it, that he could ask something like that out of simple curiosity. Even if he didn't know it, those cuts meant so much. They represented much deeper mental wounds, wounds so deep, I couldn't think of any other way to express it. So, obviously, it pissed me off that he could ask that out of pure wonder.

And that's when it came to me. He wanted to know, didn't he?

His fingers were loose enough that I could pull my wrist away fairly easily. I held my arm up in front of him. Carefully, I pulled the bandages off, starting with a piece that I had not so carefully tucked under, and letting the rest unravel from there. My arm was covered in lacerations, some with dried blood on them still. My wrist was a mess of cuts, not too deep, but still dangerously so, a mess of dried blood over them.

"Kyo…did…you…" he didn't finish his sentence, and his voice was dripping with something like horror. His concentration on being angry and starting a fight dropped immediately, and was automatically replaced with a kind of astounded terror. He was looking at those scars from a far off place. He hadn't seen this kind of depression. He hadn't known this kind of pain.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered. I hated this kind of pity that came from such a far off place. No matter how bad he felt for me, he couldn't understand. It wasn't a mutual sort of understanding and remorse, it was a condescending sort of realization that some people had it off much worse than he did; he couldn't even begin to realize what he was looking at. And as badly as it hurt for Yuki to realize that, it hurt much worse to watch it sink into him, and the place where I was when I made Yuki realize this was much more painful than anything he was experiencing at that moment.

But more than anything, I just wanted him to see this _physical proof_ that his words meant something. That I was affected, that things that happened to me mattered, and most importantly, that I was human.

"I just want you to know that I'm not immune to things you do, things you say; this is the ultimate result of everything in my life. This is what it comes down to."

Yuki turned around and left me to do whatever I wished. He went out, I don't know what for, but he came back later after Tohru and Shigure were both home.

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Yuki never again called him a monster, or "stupid cat" or anything but his name, really. Because he had learned from the cuts in Kyo's arm, for in scabs and scars that were carved there, he had seen the word _MONSTER_, and he knew that Kyo would never need another reminder from anyone else.

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Um, I could continue with this. It was just gonna be a oneshot, but I can think of ways to make it go on. If it does go on, I can promise extreme, detailed angstiness (as always ;). So tell me if you want that or not, if it doesn't seem like anyone does, I'll just close it off as a oneshot.

—Psycho.


	2. Chapter 2

**My computer is broke. Again. Actually, it's just that the cord broke this time. Maybe I can do better with writing all these lovey-dovey feelings now? I think I fell in love with someone. And I have no idea whether we will ever see eachother again. And whether he likes me and all that. It's really rather tormenting. :sigh: **

**Enjoy, reviews would be appreciated...**

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It's not that it feels good. It's not that it provides any sort of "release". It's not that I like it, at all. The blade stings, and I flinch every time before it hits my skin, afraid to let it bite me. And then once it hits, I see the blood flowing out, and it hurts like a bitch. But that's only for a minute. Once I'm past the initial, instinctive "shit, that hurts". The cut starts throbbing, and then it's okay.

Then it feels good...because it hurts. I feel like I'm in the state that I'm supposed to be in. I am supposed to hurt...I am supposed to feel this. This is what I was born to do. I was born to hurt.

For just a little, while I feel like I am where I'm supposed to be. I feel...at home.

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Do you ever get in a fight or have something bad happen, and then find a way to distract yourself from the thought of whatever it was? And then when you begin to feel happy, it reoccurs to you, whatever the reason is that you should not be feeling happy. It would be absolute perfection if you could be aware of how bad the problem was, and also aware of the fact that it is not bothering you. Wouldn't that be pure bliss?

That is the feeling that I later found, when I was walking to lunch one day. It's not like it wasn't obvious what was going on, I could see the window to the door of the student council room fogging up, despite someone's lazy effort of taping a piece of paper to the window. I opened the door, anyway, and immediately smelled a peculiar, sweet yet kind of disgusting stench. I then saw Nao in one corner of the room, glaring over a few papers. Then there was the rest of the student council sitting in a semi-circle in the other corner, the source of the smoke. But that wasn't the most surprising thing.

There was stupid Yuki, the freaking "Prince", lighting up the end of the pipe and sucking in. He took a pretty long hit, before looking up, his dialating even more. He didn't try to explain or anything, he just nodded at Kakeru and pointed at me. He then released the smoke, and passed the pipe and lighter to the other chick who's always throwing chairs and shit. She didn't surprise me, but the rest of them did a little bit.

Kakeru turned around and looked at me. He moved over a bit, leaving a me-sized area to sit down. I picked up on what he was saying, they thought I just wanted to smoke with them. I guess curiosity got me. I mean, I hadn't really gotten "high" before, and I was intrigued. So, I sat down, and waited for my turn. I lit it the same way that they had, but I coughed a lot harder and couldn't hold the smoke in as long. Yuki laughed at me, as if the fact that I didn't _smoke weed_ was some huge deal. I didn't feel anything until two turns later. My vision started getting worse, and things were a little fuzzy. I wasn't thinking quite as straight, but I was still in a pretty good state of mind. Then, after another hit, my heart was beating really fast and I felt incredibly isolated from reality.

I thought about things that I didn't want to think about. Like how pathetic and disgusting I felt in general. Random thoughts ran through my head, like "Why ME?", and "Fuck Akito, that stupid fucking wimp couldn't hurt me if I ever fought back". And suddenly I was aware of EVERYTHING, it seemed, but I was so relaxed, that none of it mattered. I was aware that it was all terrible, and that it WASN'T hurting me, and I felt amazing.

And then I was just looking around me, at the people and room and everything. My head was clouded, but somehow my thinking was stimulated. I looked at things so simply, that everything seemed pretty logically. It occurred to me how weird it was that Yuki's hair was purple. I wondered why the others were smoking.

Movies lie. It's not the "cool kids" that smoke weed, or the losers. It's just the kids that have things they don't want to think about, or hell, maybe they're just looking for a good time. And I learned that everyone is on a different high. Kakeru was on a laughing high, Kimi was on a paranoid high (biting her nails, her eyes darting around the room), the freaky chick and Yuki were just sitting there and staring into space. I was suddenly fascinated by my shoes more than the people around me, though. They were like clothes...for my FEET. And the socks were like underwear. It seemed so absurd, that I started laughing pretty hard.

The bell rang, and I thought "Oh, I have to go to class". Yuki and the others shifted lazilly to get up, Kakeru did the same, more drunkenly. Nao picked up the papers, and went out, mumbling about irresponsibility and whatnot.

Drugs are bad for you. They kill your brain. They take away reality.

But, I didn't care, because just for a short time, they made my life seem AWESOME. The two best things when one is high: food and music. I was relatively sad that I hadn't gone to lunch, because I suddenly had a craving for every food imaginable, but it felt like there was music in my head, and it was a pretty good song. I sat in class, half-listening to my math teacher ramble on about equations, and I tried to focus on my work. I didn't want to focus on my work, so I didn't. There was no bridge between when things were going to happen, and when they did, or when I was thinking about doing something, and I did it. Everything just HAPPENED.

Such a simple reality, false or not, was amazing.

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**Um, Kyo getting stoned isn't really a big deal for this story. It's just a part that I thought of and I wanted to include it. Trust me, it's going to a much bigger plot. Yuki is not really a main character to it. Short chapter. I KNOW. I like having this in it's own section, though. By the way, I do not encourage drug use. But I once had a cheese danish and my ipod when i was stoned, and it was the best thing EVER.**

**--Psycho.**


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